Cody’s POV
It had been a week. Seven long, brutal days since Angel vanished without a damn trace. I hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time—too keyed up, too pissed off, and way too worried to let my guard down. Nobody knew anything. Not security, not medical, not even Michael, who usually hears everything before it hits the rumor mill. I checked every hallway, locker room, trainer’s office—hell, I even called in a few favors to check airports and rental logs.
Nothing. It was like she’d been swallowed up by the shadows… and I couldn’t stop thinking about the last message I sent her. Just two stupid sentences: “You good? Taking longer than expected.”
She never replied. And I hadn't forgiven myself since. Tonight, I was pacing backstage again, jaw clenched, vision narrowed as I scanned every face. A couple of stagehands avoided eye contact. They’d seen me like this all week. I didn’t blame them. I probably looked half-crazed.
Then I saw him. That smug bastard, The Rock. Standing at the far end of the corridor, arms crossed like he owned the world. That trademark smirk plastered on his face like this was all some damn joke. My blood went cold and then boiled over all at once. He knew something. I didn’t need proof—I felt it. I didn’t even realize I was moving until I was halfway to him, fists clenched so tight my knuckles popped.
"You think this is funny?" I growled, my voice low and dangerous. "Where the hell is she?"
He didn’t move. Just raised one eyebrow like he was expecting me. Like he was waiting. And then…
She stepped out from behind him. Like a ghost. “Angel,” I whispered—more breath than sound. My legs locked up. My heart felt like it slammed into my ribs and dropped into my stomach. She looked the same. Same wild hair, same strong stance. But something was wrong. Off. Her eyes weren’t the same. The fire was still there, yeah—but it was colder. Controlled. And when she looked at me… there was no warmth. No recognition.
“Cody,” she said, tilting her head. Her voice had that same teasing tone, but it sounded... hollow. “Relax. He didn’t do anything to me.”
I looked at Rock, then back at her. I shook my head hard, trying to make sense of it. “No. No way,” I said, voice cracking at the edges. “This isn’t you. You would never stand with him. You hated what he stood for.”
“He showed me the light,” she said with a smirk, crossing her arms as she stepped forward. “You’re just mad because I finally stopped letting you baby me.”
“Don’t do this,” I said, backing up, my heart pounding in my ears. “This isn’t you, Angel. Come on. You’re stronger than this. You’re—”
I hesitated, then blurted, “You’re family. You said that to me. You said we were family.”
She smirked wider. “Well, maybe I’ve outgrown my family.”
I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. I couldn’t fight her—not like this. Not if there was even a chance she wasn’t fully in control. She kept walking toward me, slow, deliberate, like a predator. I couldn’t handle it. Not the way she was looking at me. Like I was a stranger. Like I didn’t matter. I did the only thing I could do in that moment.
I turned. And I ran. People gasped. I heard someone yell my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Because if I stayed there one more second, I would’ve broken—right in front of her. And I couldn’t let her see that. I couldn’t let him see that.
Time Skip
Another week.
Another damn week of this circus, with The Rock strutting around like he’s king of the world and Cena playing the quiet muscle beside him. And Angel standing there with them, like some kind of twisted bodyguard. She barely said anything when they were out there, but she didn’t have to. It was the way she looked at me every time The Rock name-dropped me. That taunting smile. That glint in her eye like she was daring me to come get her. It tore me apart every time.
She wasn’t supposed to be like this. Angel was fire. She was chaos with a conscience. She was the one who always called me out when I got too heated, who backed me up when things went sideways. I trusted her. She was like my sister.
And now I didn’t even recognize her anymore. I was backstage, arms crossed, eyes glued to the monitor as The Rock ran his mouth again. Same speech, different city. “This is his era,” “no one can touch him,” blah blah blah. Cena stood to his right, silent and stone-faced. Angel stood on his left, arms folded, chin tilted up, looking like royalty. I could feel my jaw tightening.
“Say the word, Angel,” I muttered under my breath. “Just one word and I’ll come get you out.”
Suddenly, everything changed. The arena lights cut out, plunging the crowd into darkness. A sharp clap of thunder cracked through the speakers, and I shot to my feet, instinctively scanning around backstage. “What the hell…?”
Seconds dragged by like hours. The production crew scrambled, confusion everywhere. Then—just as fast as they vanished—the lights snapped back on. The Rock and Cena were gone. But the ring?
There were two Angels now. Both in her gear. Both wearing that same confident smirk. And they were fighting. One had the other locked in a GTS, dragging her to her feet with a hand around her throat. I didn’t even think. I bolted. Down the hallway, through the curtain, the roar of the crowd hitting me like a wave. My boots hit the ramp and I didn’t slow down. I slid into the ring so fast I barely registered the pop from the fans.
Both Angels turned to me. The one delivering the GTS pointed at the struggling version beneath her. “Don’t listen to her, Cody. I’m the real Angel.”
“No!” the other one shouted, straining against the hold. “Cody, she’s lying! I’m me—I swear, it’s me!”
My heart was pounding. My mind raced. I looked between them. Both looked like her. Moved like her. Even sounded like her. But only one had that fire in her eyes. That spark I knew better than anyone else. That same stubborn, relentless light I’d seen a hundred times whenever she challenged me to a match or occasionally argued backstage about strategy or even told me off for trying to protect her too much.
The real Angel never dimmed that fire—not for anyone. I lunged forward and shoved the attacker off of her. The fake Angel hit the mat with a surprised grunt and rolled backward, eyes narrowing at me. I didn’t care. I dropped to my knees and helped my best friend up, cradling the back of her head gently, checking her over like I was afraid she’d disappear again. She smiled through a gasp and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight. I pulled her close without hesitation, burying my face against her shoulder for a second longer than I meant to.
“I knew you’d figure it out,” she murmured, her voice warm and breathless. “But... how’d you know it was me?”
I laughed under my breath and pulled back enough to meet her eyes. “Because no one—no one—can fake the fire in your eyes.”
She blinked at me, then laughed. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”
I smirked. “Yeah, well, sue me. I’ve been stressed.”
The fake Angel glared at us one last time, then slid out of the ring and disappeared through the crowd. I kept one hand on Angel’s shoulder just in case she came back. “What happened to you?” I asked softly, lowering my voice so only she could hear me.
Her face darkened. “I left the interview that night... and they were waiting for me. The Rock. Cena. They grabbed me, shoved me into a van, and next thing I knew, I was locked in some pitch-black room. No windows. No clue where I was. They didn’t say a word most of the time.”
My fists clenched. I had to force myself to stay calm, to not go storming off right then and there to find them. She kept going. “I don’t even know how long I was in there. I tried to fight, but every time I thought I had a chance, Cena was there. Or that weird clone. But my brothers… they found me. Got me out just in time.”
For the first time, I was glad Undertaker and Kane were her brothers. I pulled her into another hug and held her close. “You’re safe now. I got you.”
And this time? I wasn’t letting her out of my sight.
ns216.73.216.122da2
and then Add to home screen.